


Fire in a Hearth

by coldflashwavebaby



Series: Flashwave Week 2017 [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Flashwave Week 2k17, M/M, Mick Rory is adorable, Season 1 of the Flash, Season/Series 01, Soulmates have dreams and empathic links
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9613163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldflashwavebaby/pseuds/coldflashwavebaby
Summary: Flashwave Week Day Two: SoulmatesHe knew, from that moment, nothing was going to be the same for him. Mick loved dreaming. In his dreams, he could see his soulmate’s life in front of him, passing by like a silent movie. Every night, he dreamed about a little baby being loved and cared for by kind parents.





	

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU PANSEXUAL-FANDOM-QUEEN FOR HELPING ME COME UP WITH THIS PREMISE!!! <3 You are a goddess among writers.
> 
> I actually may continue into LOT and Season 2 of Flash

           

* * *

When Mick was nineteen, he felt his soulmate for the first time. Before that, he never understood what people meant when they talked about ‘feeling their soulmate’—after all, wouldn’t having another person’s emotions bouncing around in your head be a damned pain?

            But then, he _felt_ him.

            It was like the fire in a hearth—calming and warm inside his heart. Ever since his family burned alive, he always believed his life would be a selfish, lonely one. Until he felt his soulmate come into the world. He knew, from that moment, nothing was going to be the same for him.

            Mick loved dreaming. In his dreams, he could see his soulmate’s life in front of him, passing by like a silent movie. Every night, he dreamed about a little baby being loved and cared for by kind parents. He dreamed of a six-year-old falling off his bike and skinning his knee, only to brush himself off to jump back on again. He dreamed of a ten-year-old running from a boy much bigger than him and jumping into his mother’s arms.

            Next to setting fires, watching his soulmate’s life was his favorite thing to do.

            Then came the man in yellow.

            He was thirty when he was woken from a dead sleep by something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Fear. Pure, inescapable fear.

At first, he thought he was having some kind of attack. Then, he realized it wasn’t his fear at all. For the first time in eleven years, Mick saw his soulmate in front of him. He was screaming in his living room, shouting for his mother, who was trapped in the center of the room by…red lightning? No…there was a man inside it! His soulmate’s father suddenly showed up, shouting something, and then, his soulmate was in the middle of the street, streets away from his house.

            Mick snapped out of the vision then, but his soulmate’s pain reverberated through his entire body. He shivered and shook, not even noticing that tears were falling down his face. He knew. His soulmate’s mom hadn’t made it. She was dead, and a wave of loneliness washed over him, along with overwhelming grief.

            That night, for the first time since his family died, Mick cried himself to sleep, over a woman he never knew.

           

            He paid close attention to his feelings after that. He found out that, if he focused on his connection to his soulmate, he could get a peek into what he was doing. He knew that his father was locked away now, and that a new, equally loving family had taken the kid in. He knew that the father was a cop—but, hey, no one’s perfect—and that his soulmate was smart. So many times when Mick peeked in on his soulmate’s life, he saw him bent over some textbook or working on some science experiment.

That warm hearth was glowing brighter and brighter inside of him, and Mick couldn’t help feeling like he was falling deeper and deeper for a kid he’d never met, but knew better than anyone.

He didn’t even know his name!

This continued, through high school dates Mick tried not to be jealous of (and if Snart noticed the extra fires set during that time, he kept it to himself) and college graduations, until he was finally getting a job as a CSI. A wave of pride washed over Mick, followed by a flutter of gratitude that wasn’t his. At that moment, he knew his soulmate could feel him, too. Feeling like a mushy idiot, he pulled away from their bond and focused on the flame dancing on his lighter. Across the room, Snart snorted.

He knew about Mick’s soulmate—of course he knew; he’d been there when Mick felt him being born. But he always acted apathetic about the whole thing. At first, Mick thought it was because of how emotionally constipated his partner could be. Things like soulmates and true love always made Snart gag.

He asked Lisa about it once, and she laughed. “Oh, you beautiful idiot. Lenny isn’t apathetic. He’s jealous.”

And, damn, didn’t that add a whole new track on Mick’s thought process. That Snart could be jealous—jealous that Mick had a soulmate and he didn’t? Or jealous that Mick wasn’t _his_ soulmate? He never asked, and Snart never said. But they continued their partnership the same as always, soulmates or no soulmates.

Until the night the particle accelerator exploded. He and Lisa had been running a heist without Snart—he’d been off sending a message to some new crew members that screwed up or something; Mick didn’t care about the details, as long as he got to set fire to something on his own heist—when all of the lights flickered off.

A rumble shook the building, something lit up outside, and suddenly, Mick’s body light up with pain. Again, he had a vision of his soulmate, standing in the middle of his lab, trying to close the skylight. He barely had time to look up when a bolt of lightning came through the window, striking his soulmate and throwing him back against a shelf of chemicals.

Then, it all faded away. All of it. Every feeling, every vision. It was like his soulmate was just…gone. His warm hearth burnt out.

“Mick!”

His soulmate was dead. He couldn’t feel him anymore. The joy, the hope, the excitement…

“Mick, stop!”

Nothing mattered. Without his other half, there was nothing. Nothing but the flames.

“Mick, the building’s coming down!”

Nothing mattered…

0000000

Mick nursed his drink. It’d been months since his soulmate died. Since he lost everything. Apparently, he’d lost control after his vision. The fire he was supposed to set spread, and he’d been trapped inside. Lisa tried to save him, but she was forced to run when the fire department and police showed up. Luckily, she only had minor burns.

Most of Mick’s torso was covered in third degree burns.

He’d been arrested and brought to the hospital, where he stole some drugs and escaped, only to find a furious Snart waiting back at the safehouse.

Apparently, he didn’t like that Mick’s actions put Lisa in danger. He told Mick to leave Central City and never come back. They were done.

Which was fine with Mick, who decided to drink and burn until he died.

            The next nine months of his life were spent boozing, fucking, stealing, and burning. It was both the most depressing and most joyful time of the pyro’s life. Without his soulmate’s conscience and Snart’s rules hanging over him, he was free to do whatever the hell he pleased.

            Then, it happened. He was sitting in some run-down strip bar in Starling, focusing on the crap dances and cheap beer, when he felt something. Everything inside of him lit up. Fucking Lady Gaga started blaring in his head. He tried to shake it off, but his heart filled with panic, and his mind with confusion.

            But it wasn’t his.

            He ran outside to the piece of crap van he’d stolen and collapsed into the seat. _Damn it_. He thought he’d avoided _completely_ losing his mind along with his soulmate. He’d heard stories about people who, even after their soulmate’s deaths, couldn’t handle it; so, instead of wallowing, their minds would pretend their soulmate was still there by projecting random emotions.

            He cursed. He’d never even met his soulmate. Why was this happening to him?

0000000

            He got his answer a few months later, after an encounter with the Flash.

            Snart had called him up with a gift—a jacked up flamethrower. The condition? He had to help him kill a hero that had become a thorn in Snart’s side. Unfortunately, the Flash proved to be an even bigger pain in the ass than expected, stopping them and having them arrested with only minor injuries. Though, Mick mused, it did seem painful. He could almost feel what Snart’s ice and his fire burning through the Flash’s chest.

            He played up his craziness as the police dragged him inside the precinct. One of them, he noticed, was his soulmate’s foster father. Figures. Usually, there were special precautions taken with someone who lost a soulmate; they would see a psychologist, they could be taken to a special facility instead of prison, some even pleaded not guilty using the soulmate-loss plea.

            No one knew about his soulmate other than the Snarts, though. And he was keeping it that way.

            Or so he thought. Until his eyes fell on one of the bystanders watching them be dragged in. He froze in place. There was no way. He _felt_ the lightning.

            His soulmate stared back at him, not really scared, but definitely wary being so close to Mick, and his fire ignited again, only this time, it was a blaze. He hadn’t had any dreams since the lightning, no feelings for nine months. How was it possible?

            His surprise made it easy for the cops to drag both him and Snart into a holding cell. Once they were left alone, Snart leaned against the bars, arms crossed. “So, what was that about?”

            Mick didn’t answer.

            “Usually, you play up the ‘crazy pyro’ thing to get a rise out of the cops. But you froze this time. What did you see?”

            His eyes darted towards the door. His soulmate was a CSI, which meant that he was the one that would come in and print them. _Unless you scared him off_ , a little voice said. Mick shook out the thought.

            No, he’d come. Mick could knew it.

            Suddenly, the door opened. He grinned when his soulmate, flanked by two armed guards, entered the holding area. Instead of stopping at Mick’s cell, though, he went to Snart’s.

            Not missing the way Mick’s eyes followed his soulmate, Snart smirked as the CSI took his hand and dipped his fingers in the ink. “So…” He drawled. “ _That’s_ why you froze.”

            Mick rolled his eyes. Sometimes, it was a pain in the ass how nothing got past Snart. He’d mentioned once five years ago that his soulmate was a CSI at CCPD. How did Snart remember that? The CSI blushed, quickly finishing printing his partner before darting his eyes to Mick.

            Mick smiled as warmly as he could, hoping to comfort his soulmate. “It’s okay, doll.” He assured. “I don’t bite.”

            The younger man swallowed hard, but brought his kit over to Mick’s cell. He shivered when his soulmate gently took his hand and dipped his fingers in the ink. “You’re not going to say anything?” He asked as the CSI printed him.

            His soulmate shrugged. “There’s nothing to say. You’re a criminal. You tried to kill the Flash. You almost killed my foster sister’s fiancé. You threatened the life of a friend of mine. What can you say to that?”

            Mick’s smile fell. If it’d been anyone else, he wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass about what they thought. But the way his soulmate looked at him…

            Before he could pull his hands away again, Mick grabbed his hand. The guards drew their weapons and ordered him to stand down, but Mick was focused on his soulmate. The CSI didn’t look worried—if anything, he looked ready to fight.

            Mick moved his thumb along the back of the younger man’s hand gently, showing he meant no harm. “What’s your name?”

            His soulmate frowned, confusion clear on his face. He waved the armed guards back. “It’s Barry.” He answered. “Barry Allen.”

            Mick let go of his arm, overjoyed he finally had a name to go with the face he’d watched for the past twenty-six years. Snart snorted as Barry pulled his arm back and the guards escorted him back out of the room. Mick, though, grinned from ear-to-ear.

            Barry Allen.

                                                                       0000000          

                                                                             

            Lisa broke them out of the transport van while they were moved to Iron Heights. Len was relieved, stating they would all lay low in a safe house in Keystone for a few weeks until the heat died down (funny. Real funny.) but all Mick could think about was Barry.

            How could he connect with his soulmate? How could Barry Allen ever love a criminal?

            “Oh my god.” Snart groaned after couple of days. “I can’t take it anymore. Why don’t we just kidnap the kid so you’ll stop moaning?”

            Lisa, who was kicked back in one of the arm chairs across the living area, rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him, hon. Lenny doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.” She glided to her feet and moved to sit on the sofa arm beside him. “You need to find a way to woo your boy. Send him flowers, or things he likes. Then, when we go back to Central, ask him out.”

            Mick raised an eyebrow, but Snart laughed dryly. “Did you forget that Mick’s dear soulmate works with the police, and his foster father is the badge that arrested us?”

            Lisa sighed. “That does complicate things.”

            Mick had heard enough about his love life from them. They had more important things to think about—like how they were going to rule Central City with the Flash running around, thwarting them. He did take Lisa’s advice—he didn’t tell Snart; he would never hear the end of it—but if he set up membership to the Central City Science Museum with unlimited passes to the planetarium in Barry Allen’s name, or sent a bouquet of fire lilies to the forensics lab, well…

            He never put his name on them, but he knew Barry would figure out who they were all from. He tried to focus on his connection, to see how Barry liked everything and how he was, but every time he focused his mind, it was like static.

            He brushed it off as a side effect from the lightning.

            It wasn’t until two months later, though, when they came back to Central and kidnapped the nerd that invented their guns aka the Flash’s tech and Lisa’s soulmate, that it all made sense.

            Snart tried to get him to leave the room after the kid, Cisco Ramon, and his brother tried to escape, but he fought to stay. He was risking a lot with this—he deserved to know who the Flash was as much as Snart did.

            The kid whimpered and begged Snart to stop as he froze his brother’s fingers. “I can’t hurt you—you’re my sister’s soulmate, and that would crush her. But, your brother here isn’t protected by such luxuries. So tell me—who is the Flash, Ramon?”

            Mick wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t the words “Barry Allen”.

0000000

            It wasn’t until several weeks later—after the deal between the Rogues and Team Flash—that Mick saw his soulmate again. He and Snart were at Saints & Sinners; Snart was at the bar, throwing back a drink, while Mick was playing a game of pool against some thug who thought he was the toughest guy in the room.

            Yeah. Right.

            Mick was lining up a shot, when lightning shot up his spine, and he _knew._ The front door swung open, and in Barry walked. Even without their connection, Mick could tell he was jittery about something. The speedster barely glanced at him before making a beeline for Snart.

So, Flash business. He set his pool stick down and let out a high whistle. The few patrons in the bar quickly filed out the door, even the stupid douche he was playing against. Everyone knew better than to cross him or Snart.

He moved to the far end of the bar—far enough that Barry and Snart can privately talk business, though he overheard enough: transporting meta-criminals, watching his and his team’s backs…shady stuff, shady stuff.

Len wrote their price on a napkin, which Mick was too far away to see, but when Barry saw it, he blushed red and cast a shy glance back at Mick before shaking his head.

“Come on, Snart. That can’t be what you want.”

Snart smirked. “Fine. I’ll come to you with my price. Now, speed away, _Flash_.” He flounced away—fucking drama queen—leaving Mick and Barry alone at the bar. The speedster shifted nervously as Mick moved closer, his eyes focusing on every small detail he could about him. It was like a dream, being so close to his soulmate. He almost couldn’t believe it, even now, knowing his soulmate was the Flash.

“We gunna talk about this?” He rumbled. Barry’s eyes stayed fixed on the stained, sticky bar top. Mick knew that, as hard as it was on him finding out his soulmate was a superhero, it must have been even worse for Barry. He’d dealt with every meltdown, every issue, every burn Mick ever had. But, damn it all, Mick had to try. He needed to try.

Barry tapped his fingers against the wooden bar. “There’s nothing to talk about. You’re a criminal, and I’m the hero that stops you. It doesn’t matter what fate says—it would never work.”

Mick raised an eyebrow. “Is that you talking, or foster cop and S.T.A.R Labs?”

A dry, humorless laugh escaped Barry’s lips. “They don’t know about you. I never told anyone about you, not even Joe.” His fingers started tracing shapes in the residue on the bar. “It was like…it was like a secret, you know? They knew I had one—almost _everyone_ has one—but the little details…how much you care about Snart and Lisa, how you love to cook, that feeling when you gaze into a fire, even the fact you’re a criminal…that was like our little secret, you know? But now, I’m the Flash, and you’re Heatwave, and everything is so messy…”

Mick grabbed his hand to stop his doodling, cradling it like it was something special, because damn, it was. Barry Allen was his soulmate, and that made him the most special human being on the planet. “Doll, life is messy. Anything worth having has to be salvaged from the shit we surround ourselves with.

“I may not be the perfect soulmate,” He was sick of Barry avoiding his gaze, so he used his other hand to gently grab his chin and turn his head, so hazel eyes met brown. “But I ain’t giving up this chance to be something better.”

He could feel Barry doubting himself, see him arguing morals versus instinct. So, he leaned forward to bring their lips together in a warm, almost chaste kiss. Barry didn’t even fight him. He kissed back almost immediately, reaching the hand not being held by Mick up to cup the back of his head to deepen it. They poured every bit of longing, ever drop of desire, into the kiss, until they were panting and breathless against each other’s lips; still, they refused to pull away too far.

Barry’s eyes were squeezed shut, his lips were swollen red, and all Mick wanted was to have him right there against the bar. But, he knew that if he pushed too far, he’d scare Barry off further. So, instead, he pulled away.

“I’ll talk to Snart about your little…whatever.” He said, smiling when Barry followed him to bring their lips back together. “See if I can get him to make a reasonable deal.”

Barry nodded, and Mick backed away so the superhero could flash away.

0000000

So, the transport didn’t go exactly as planned. At least, not for Barry and his friends.

            After a fair deal was struck—his and Snart’s criminal records for their help—Snart explained what was really going down. S.T.A.R labs was operating an illegal prison for metahumans and were now planning to transport them to a deserted island in the middle of the China Sea.

            Mick could feel that Barry didn’t think he had a choice. Something was going to happen to the metas if they didn’t move them. But this was bordering on human trafficking.

            So, maybe he helped distract Barry while Snart tampered with the truck that held the metas. Maybe the metas got loose. It wasn’t really a problem until laser eyes tried to kill his soulmate.

He burned nicely under Mick’s heatgun.

Mick didn’t like betraying Barry—he couldn’t even bear to look at him as Snart shot him to the ground and taunted him. Damn, maybe Lisa was right about Snart being jealous of Barry. Even Captain Cold wasn’t _that_ cold.

He swallowed down the lump that was forming in his throat as he climbed onto his bike. Lisa and Snart both rode off, but he gave one last look back. “Sorry, kid.” He sighed quietly, but he knew Barry heard it.

He spent the next few days in the apartment he and the Snart’s rented above of Saints & Sinners, drinking and focusing all his energy his soulmate connection. At first, there was a lot of heavy emotion coming through—betrayal, love, sorrow, fury. Then, he felt a pain he hadn’t felt in fourteen years.

When Barry Allen walked back into Saints & Sinners a week after the singularity over Central, Mick knew what he needed. He was sitting at the bar when the speedster sat beside him, his eyes red, tear tracks dried on his cheeks, and a heaviness on him that Mick hadn’t felt in forever. Without a word, he took Barry by the hand and led him up to the empty apartment above.

He sat the speedster on the couch and grabbed them each a beer before taking a seat beside him. “So…” He sighed, “that was intense.”

Barry nodded silently. He couldn’t blame the kid for not wanting to talk about it. It was one of the strongest visions he’d ever gotten from him—from watching his mother get murdered again, to comforting her last moments, fighting and losing to her killer, watching one of his friends commit suicide to save him, and then the singularity…

He’d been a wreck for days. Snart and Lisa left him alone to deal with the new emotions, but they were so much, it was a wonder he hadn’t burned the building down.

Barry stared at the beer Mick gave him, but it was like he was somewhere else. “I didn’t want to be alone.” The superhero finally whispered. He raised his head to stare at Mick, like he was searching for something important. “I…my friends are all grieving, but I just…I couldn’t stay around them. All I could think was, ‘Mick would understand. He knows what I’m going through.’. I just…I don’t want to be alone.”

A broken sob shook through the kid’s chest, and Mick immediately leaned over to press a kiss in his hair. “Wait here.”

He jumped up from the couch and wandered into Snart’s room. The guy was freezing all the time; he had to have—

Found it.

He carried the heavy, fleece blanket he’d found back into the living room and kicked off his boots before sitting back on the couch. Barry frowned when he motioned for him to come closer, but didn’t argue as Mick arranged them so they were both laying out on the couch, Barry’s back against his chest, wrapped up in Snart’s blanket.

Eventually, the small tremors shaking Barry’s body ceased, and he fell into a deep sleep. Mick sighed contently. It wasn’t perfect, and they had a lot to work through, but he could feel something starting here, in this moment.

For the first time in his life, Mick felt complete.


End file.
